Diary of a Spaulding Secretary
by Examun
Summary: The Diary of a Spaulding Secretary. (Duh) Rating: Teetering between PG and PG13. Reviews Welcome.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Now, if I owned Guiding Light, it wouldn't be called 'fanfiction,' now, would it?  
  
Dear Diary,  
  
That moron 'Mr.' Spaulding has hired another one of his sons to take Philly boy's place in the office. The new boy's name is 'Gus.' Everyone around the water cooler just calls him 'the Shadow.' He thinks it's because he's so sneaky. In reality it's because he has a five o'clock shadow at seven in the morning. The man has obviously never learned how to shave properly. Must get it from his father.  
  
Oh God. Mr. 'Moron' Spaulding calling me again. Apparently someone's left one of those notes on his desk again. It's one of those ones that says "To see a picture of a moron, turn card" on both sides of the paper. Last time he got one of those he was at it for hours. "Where is it?" he kept asking. "Where's the picture?" I couldn't help myself. I had to take a picture of him. Thank God he was too busy staring at the card to notice the flash.  
  
Sigh. Write more later. Must get to water cooler to make sure Alexandra hasn't drugged the entire staff again. 


	2. Entry 2

Entry 2  
  
Moron's sister Alexandra is running around the place asking everyone to smell her hand. If she wasn't the boss's sister she'd be slapped, but as it is she isn't. Just today as I came in the office she jumped up and demanded what I thought of the new perfume, 'Bad Girl.'  
  
'Bad Girl.' Interesting name. I hear that everyday. I hear it being yelled from my mouth when I come home to see that my dog just crapped all over the dining room floor. "Bad Girl! BAD GIRL!!!" Apparently Alexandra doesn't have a dog. That surprises me since she's such a bit- you know what. Now she goes around spraying people with her perfume and with that high pitch squeal she calls a voice demands their opinion. She jumped up and sprayed Everett Roth from Marketing in the eyes. Everett, not knowing what was happening, sprayed her back with mace. Poor guy. He works in the mail room now.  
  
What happened to the good old days when Spaulding Pharmaceuticals was busy doing stuff like making clones? That was fun. Jeremy Anstinson from Sales made a clone of himself played the funniest prank on his wife...  
  
Well, anyway. Moron's in his office sleeping at his desk while he thinks Shadow Boy is off doing something businessy. I know he's asleep because I had to walk into his office to put some papers in his desk. Something odd happened. While I was writing the word "Dork" on his face with permanent ink, he said something in his sleep: "Maryanne."  
  
Who's Maryanne? Probably one of his girlfriends. Maybe she has blackmail on him. Wouldn't be the first time. If I had a nickel every time a woman threatened to go public with some pictures of Alan in the Rocky Horror Picture Show costume, I wouldn't have to work here.  
  
Sigh. Closing time. I get to go home. And after the kids are put the bed and the dog's crap is cleaned up, I'm going to sit down, pour a glass of wine, listen to some music, and watch the security tape of Alexandra being sprayed with mace.  
  
Ahh. Good times. 


	3. Entry 3

Brad Green called me into his office today. When I walked in he was wearing nothing but a raincoat. "Ms. Rinsler," he asked, "What do you think of this paperwork?" he asked, pointing at some papers on his desk. I looked at them. "Very nice, Mr. Green. I like the color crayon you used."  
  
"I see. What do you think of this paperwork then?" he pointed to a stickynote on his desk reading "Lunch. Noon. Myself."  
  
"Brief yet to the point. Is there something you need Mr. Green?"  
  
"Ms. Rinsler, would you mind telling what you think of this?" and he opened his raincoat.  
  
Thirty seconds later Brad Green was running from his office crying himself senseless and I was rolling over on the floor laughing so hysterically I was in tears myself. By the time Alexandra had walked in to see what was going on, I was still laughing so hard that the only words I could muster myself to say were "tiny littl-pfff MWHAHAHAHA!"  
  
"My God!" Alexandra puffed "What happened?"  
  
I managed to pull myself together and stand up. "Brad Green flashed me."  
  
"AGAIN?" yelled Alexandra, "That's the fourth time he's done that this month! I'm worried we might get a lawsuit on our hands!"  
  
"Don't worry, I won't sue Ms. Spaulding." I said, stifling back a laugh.  
  
"Not you, Brad Green! He's been claiming that all the women laughing at him has begun to evoke emotional trauma!" 


	4. Entry 4

I was busy working at my desk, trying to find a way to erase Alan's crayon marks from the monthly reports when I noticed that the large potted Palm in the corner of the office was moving. It was edging towards my desk. It was then I realized that there was no potted plant in the corner of the office and after a closer examination (about 0.3 milliseconds) I realized it wasn't a plant at all, but in fact a blonde woman wearing a dozen palm branches sitting in a very large basket. Sighing, I got up and walked up to her.  
  
"You might want to stop doing that. You're going to get dirt all over the carpet." I told her.  
  
Harley looked up at me. "I don't know what you're talking about Alan's secretary. I'm just a pretty houseplant."  
  
"Harley, houseplants don't talk."  
  
"Oh." Harley seemed a little down, but had a comeback. "Well Magical houseplants do!"  
  
"Harley. Stop. You're not fooling anybody."  
  
She finally took the hint. "Dang! How did you know it was me?" she asked.  
  
"I'm a smart girl, I figured it out. And the fact it was blatantly obvious had a little something to do with it."  
  
"Darn! Jeffrey told me this was a bad disguise. I hate it when he's right."  
  
"Well, if it makes any difference, I didn't know it was a disguise when I wasn't looking at you at all." I offered.  
  
That seemed to brighten her up. "Really?" she asked.  
  
"Of course dear. Now why don't you tell me exactly why you're in the worst houseplant disguise ever inching through Spaulding Enterprises?"  
  
"Cuz Jeffrey told me too. Well, except the disguise part. That was my idea."  
  
"Hon. Why exactly are you even here?"  
  
It was then Alan walked up.  
  
"Ms. Rinsler, why are you talking to that houseplant?"  
  
"It's not a houseplant sir, it's Harley Cooper with a bunch of palm leaves taped to her shirt."  
  
"Are you alright Ms. Rinsler?" Alan said.  
  
"Oh, she's fine," said Harley.  
  
"My God!" yelled Alan, obviously surprised, "A talking houseplant!"  
  
"Mr. Spaulding, it's not a talking houseplant, it's Harl-"  
  
"Ms. Rinsler, this is brilliant! A talking houseplant! We could make millions!" yelled Alan. "Now, tell me Ms. Rinsler, how did you teach this houseplant to talk?"  
  
"I'm a magical houseplant!" Harley said enthusiastically.  
  
Moron was overjoyed. "Of course! Excellent! Ms. Rinsler, take this plant down to Spaulding labs, see if they can make copies of it." He started to go into his office. "Talking Magical Houseplants! A household product! It will make us millions!" he paused a second. "I hope Microsoft hasn't done it yet." He closed the door, leaving me alone with our company's newest product: Harley Cooper with her palm branch shirt.  
  
I turned to Harley. "Go home Ms. Cooper."  
  
"But I'm going to be a household product."  
  
"Go home."  
  
Morons. Sigh. How long until Friday? 


	5. Entry 5

Moron was sent a letter which, of course, has been dropped on my desk. What was odd was that the paper was pink and perfumed. On the envelope it read:  
  
--- To: Alan Brandon Spaulding.  
  
From: Someone who twenty four years ago saw you drive off that bridge with five other people and you all got out of the car except for the poor woman who you drugged and left to drown and soon what you did that night will come back to make you pay you sorry, sorry man. MWAHAHAHA! ---  
  
Hmm. Must be from Marketing. 


	6. Entry 6

God I'm Evil.  
  
After another hellday at the office, I went home and baked a batch of laxative laced brownies for work the next morning. (Did I say laced? I meant filled.)  
  
I am perfectly proud to say that they all bought it. Moron, Alexanra, Green, Shadowboy and a bunch of their yes-men were all too happy to try a brownie. Damn, it is very funny to see them all run to the bathroom at the same time. Everyone around the office went up to the Security Room to watch all the surveillance monitors so they could see all of the blue- blooded bozos walk out of the bathrooms and then run back in twelve seconds later.  
  
What kills me, what absolutely kills me is the fact they never realized it was the brownies. I mean, three hours later they came up to me and asked if they could have another. Twice. The Security guys even told me that they ate both of them! This is impossible. No one is that stup-  
  
---  
  
Moron called me into his office twenty minutes ago. I believe the exact thing going through my mind was "ocrapocrapocrapocrapwhatthehellwasIthinkingocrapocrapocrapocrap" Luckily, I managed to hold the stoic calmness that only secretaries possess.  
  
And sitting at his desk was Alan, who, good Heaven, was smiling. "Ms. Rinsler, I just wanted to thank you for bringing in those brownies."  
  
"Er...no problem." I said. It took me a good minute to realize that he was being serious.  
  
"In fact..." he started and then the words 'gooooooodbye job' came to mind.  
  
"Could I get the recipe?" he asked and he had that damn dopey smile on his face.  
  
God I'm Evil.  
  
A/N: No, I did not just put in some toilet humor because I ran out of ideas (or did I?). There is some relevance in a later plot. Well, actually this fic doesn't really have a plot, but there is something somewhat resembling a plot in the depths of my frightening mind. 


	7. Entry 7

Today Shadow-Boy (Gus) started a speech about how he's here to protect Phillip's interests. I asked why it was necessary to protect Phillip from his own family-owned corporation. That shut him up.  
  
I find myself almost missing Philly boy. He may have been a stubborn, jerkish, self-righteous, workaholic, pin headed, anal, demeaning, tight- ass, rat bastard control freak, but-  
  
What was my point?  
  
Christopher Langum has begun hanging around Alan's office. He's the Spaulding psychiatrist. Considering half the family is insane, you'd think they'd get another shrink, wouldn't you? Oh God, I think he's hitting on me. 


	8. Entry 8

In a moment of weakness, I gave in and agreed to go on a date with Christopher Langum. Maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe I can get some nice secrets on the Spauldings that can go in my blackmail portfolio.  
  
Moron has been very twittery lately. He seems to jump whenever I saw words that start with 'M' or rhyme with 'others.' He even hasn't been taking naps at his desk as usual. I wonder what's gotten into him...and how can I exploit it.  
  
And just when I had thought I had shut him up, Shadow Boy started talking about protecting Phillip's interests again. Oh for heaven's sake, will these hypocrites ever shut up? They think no one notices, but when they use me as a life line with the business around here, I know everything. Everyone claims to worry about Phillip and they want only to protect his interests. The man lost his infant daughter, his marbles, and his elder daughter lost basically all her morals. Not to mention the fact that his entire family is out to get him. I don't really think Philly Boy's too interested in how the DOW Jones is doing, do you?  
  
No, no, let's examine how they 'protect' the sick man's interests. His brand spanking new brother Gus takes his place as CEO, all the while looking into Spaulding files for any dark incriminating files which he will never find since the moment he agreed to take over they were all shipped to the hideout in Cuba. Meanwhile, Phillip's 'adoring' father Alan shows his love by tightening control over the corporation, introducing Shadow Boy as a puppet ruler while he calls the shots. Dear Auntie Alexandra, Queen of the Whining adds the infamous womanizer Brad Green to the mix, adding a poisonous snake to the stew. And Olivia...well, I guess the fact a brand new photo of a baby falling out of her bag yesterday was simply a coincidence? They are pariahs, the lot of them.  
  
Not bad for a family who are convinced that New York City is a country. 


	9. Entry 9

Something I realized: Do you know a great way to get rid of crayon marks off international business reports and ledgers?  
  
Yeah, neither do I. 


	10. Entry 10

A/N: Sorry if the jokes seem a little old, I get GL a week later than you guys. Returning to our journal...  
  
Went on date with Christopher Langum. Imagine having a drill bored through your head while being forced to watch Ishtar: The Extended Edition and you'll have an idea how the date with. No blackmail is worth this much.  
  
And as I came in this morning, Alexandra was skipping around the office and sat at my desk telling me just how much fun it was to ride on her friend's sow. And I was wondering just how on earth someone got her to sit on a pig's back. Perhaps she was visiting a farm. It was then that Alexandra began to go into detail. "You see Ms. Rinsler, there's nothing quite like the feel of leather between your legs, the wind in your hair and the metal bars in your hands!"  
  
What the hell kind of a farm is this!?!  
  
A/N Coming soon, Spaulding Enterprises Employee Evaluation! (That sounds really dull when I write it that way) 


	11. Spaulding Enterprises Employee Evaluatio...

Spaulding Enterprises Employee Evaluation Worksheet  
  
Welcome to the Spaulding Enterprises Employee Evaluation Worksheet! You will finally have a chance to have your voice heard! Do not sign your name. Your identity will not be revealed. Answer as truthfully as possible.  
  
Are you happy with your work?  
  
-Like a root canal.  
  
Say one good thing about your job.  
  
-At least I'm not being rectally probed by aliens.  
  
How often do you trust your own judgment?  
  
-I trusted my own judgment in taking this job. It's pretty much stayed downhill.  
  
In your estimation, the best way for you to get ahead is to...  
  
-Drug the boss and cut his head off.  
  
Would you ever use unethical methods to get ahead?  
  
-Absolutely not. Using unethical methods got me here, and I've learned that lesson. Nah, I'm just kidding. I use them all the time.  
  
Your idea of success is...  
  
-Getting through a day without hearing the voices.  
  
What is your proudest achievement?  
  
-Someteen years working here and not one recorded work shooting incident!  
  
Where do you see yourself in ten years?  
  
-I try not to think about that. Give me nightmares.  
  
Why did you come to work at Spaulding Enterprises?  
  
-I've been asking myself that everyday for the past twelve years.  
  
If you could change one thing about your department, what would you do?  
  
-Get rid of management.  
  
Which department do you work in?  
  
-Management  
  
Your Boss  
  
Who is your boss?  
  
-Beard Man.  
  
What best describes your boss:  
  
-Artificial Intelligence is no match for Natural Stupidity.  
  
What is your relationship with your boss?  
-It's a love/hate relationship. I hate him and he loves the way he can dump all his crap on me.  
  
What is your boss' best quality?  
  
-He has very few communicable diseases.  
  
If your boss was a color, what color would he be?  
  
-Blood Red. Well, at least if I had my way.  
  
-Sexual Harassment-  
  
Have You Ever Been Sexually Harassed at work?  
  
-Yes.  
  
If Yes, by whom?  
  
-BRAD GREEN  
  
Besides Brad Green.  
  
-Oh. Never mind then.  
  
-Personal Questions-  
  
What color would you say you are?  
  
-Are you serious?  
  
If you were a tree, what tree would you be?  
  
-The one from those Lord of the Ring movies. You know, the ones that come in and kill everybody.  
  
Would you consider yourself a family person?  
  
-I haven't seen my kids in two years, and they live with me. Does that answer your question?  
  
Do you believe in God?  
  
-Until I worked here.  
  
And sign your name here:  
  
-For Heaven's sake, NO ONE is dumb enough to sign their name to a negative review to their bosses. Well, maybe marketing. 


	12. Entry 12

How on Earth? I spent my afternoon trying get Alan to sit still while I cut chewing gum out of his beard. For Christ's sake, he doesn't even chew gum! How on earth can he...  
  
You know what, never mind. I don't even want to know.  
  
I went to Olivia's bar today and the bartender told me that lil miss Lizzie "Bordon" Spaulding threatened to have him fired unless he served her a drink. Such a lovely child, isn't she? Actually, and this is getting scary, one of my kids told me a song kids are singing in the playground:  
  
Lizzie Spaulding took an axe And gave her stepdad twenty whacks, And so proud of what she'd done She gave her unborn sister twenty one!  
  
I don't go to Olivia's bar that often. I mean, the bartender's nice and gives good Spaulding blackmail, but I can't go in there without Brad Green trying to get into my pants. A**hole. That man is always in there, hitting on any living thing wearing a skirt-  
  
As a matter of fact, that gives me an idea... 


	13. Entry 13

I'm rolling over on the floor laughing. The Feds! Shadow Boy was working for the FEDS! I was certainly surprised, I'll give him that! This man, who came to everyday looking for the bathroom was working for the Feds? Good Lord: I fear for America's security.  
  
Now in less that a few days the FBI's going to come in here and begin tearing through all the files. No one's supposed to even know about this but Moron's brain is the size of a peanut so it's not that hard to figure things out around here. I've already taken some of my belongings, well, the ones I don't want Moron to realize I have. My kids are sure baffled about why there's a shrine to Carol, the secretary in Dilbert on the kitchen table, but they know better than ask questions about Mom's work. It's not like I want to give my kids nightmares. They have school to do that.  
  
Ooh, that reminds me, with all this FBI crap I have to review some deals I have with Spaulding Security. Would want those to go to waste, now do I?  
  
Oh, and I forgot to add this: A phone call I received at the office a month ago:  
  
Me: (pick up phone) Hello?  
  
'Mysterious' Voice: Hello. Is Spaulding doing anything illegal?  
  
Me: Not that I know of.  
  
My Conscience: LIAR! LIAR LIAR!  
  
Me: Do you want me to lose our job?

Conscience: Oh. Sorry.  
  
Me: Thank you. (to phone) No, sorry.  
  
'Mysterious' Voice: Oh. Are you sure?  
  
Me: I am sure of it as I am that Alan is a competent and kind boss.  
  
Conscience: MWAHAHAHAHA!  
  
'Mysterious' Voice: Oh. Well then, could you tell Gus to buy some Macaroni and Cheese on his way home then.  
  
Me: No problem. Goodbye.  
  
'Mysterious' Voice: Bye!  
  
The Magical Talking Houseplant strikes again.


	14. Entry 14

When I walked into the office this morning, I found a note on my desk reading:  
  
I'm on to you Rinsler.  
  
I'm confused. What exactly are they on to me about? My blackmail portfolio? That one night fling with Dimitri, the Russian mail-room boy? My secret deals with Spaulding Security involving the building's surveillance tapes? That secret Christmas Office Party when Alexandra made us work Christmas Eve while she spent the night spoiling her psycho-brat nephews and nieces? My plans to kill Ala-I mean my plans to maim Ala- I mean, my plans to screw Alan over? What?  
  
And who exactly is 'on' to me? I don't exactly have any enemies within the office. I mean, everyone knows I hate Alan more than everyone else. Men have walked out of Alan's office just after being cruelly and sadistically fired, looked at me, shook their heads and said "Poor woman." Everyone knows what I do to him. Well, not everything, of course, or I might be in prison, but I keep nice tabs of what's going on in the office.  
  
I'm not even going to give Alan the dignity of think he left the note. He's not on to anything not under his nose. He managed to ignore the fact that his wife #5 and son #1 were going at it like rabbits until he caught it on camera. God that was a beautiful moment. I have to give it to Alexandra for that one. She seemed rather different then, with her euro- trash accent and much more distinct fashion. Then she got back in her pathetic groove of things and that ridiculous look.  
  
Where am I? Oh, being harassed by a stalker, right. I'm still puzzled over who it could be. I think I-

* * *

Just as I was beginning that sentence, Rhonda Corliss from the Marketing Office walked up to my desk. "Do you know who this is from?" she asked, handing me a note, "I found it on my desk." It read:  
  
"I'm on to you Corliss."  
  
I showed her my note and we began talking about who could have it in for us, when Evelyn Norwood, Daphne Grander and Mary Wronski came in wanting to complain to Moron about three harassing notes on their desk with the same message. Since Moron would more likely give medicine to needy children than listen to us, we talked and learned that half of the women in the building had received the same ominoius notes with their name on them.  
  
"Who on Earth would do such a thing?" Grander asked.  
  
"You mean," I said, gritting my teeth as I realized the answer, "Who would harass every half-attractive women into thinking he had an unnatural power over them?"  
  
A short trip to the camera surveillance room confirmed our suspicion and together we made a pact that hour.  
  
We're going to get an unholy revenge upon Brad Green.  
  
And we're going to have a hell of a time doing it.

A/N: I know, I know, I've been horrible to you lot. I haven't updated in months and what I give is you a couple of rather Crppy chapters. Sorry. So, in case something like this happens again, I'll thank the all the wonderful people who've reviewed my work. (Both of you.)

MeoW03: Oops! I mean...Cool. It's all part of my evil plan to take over the world you see. Your neighbor was first. Next...JKRowling... ;-) (Book 6 will be out in a week.)

Kali1: Would you believe that I've never seen Ishtar? Would you blame me?

That and all, I have the next chapter in the works, and a couple of chapters after that. There was talk of a 'Secretary Diaries' website but...


	15. Entry 15

Every day when I wake up, I face cynicism, sarcasm, complete lack of hope and anything joyful or happy.  
  
And that's just listening to my kid's talk about school in the morning.

* * *

Something strange happened to me today. So I'm answering Alan's telephone calls and guess who calls him? Vinnie Salerno. The head of the Mob in Springfield is calling my boss' office. Since Moron wasn't in, so I calmly explain this to Mr. 'I Can Kill You Just By Looking At You' Salerno.  
  
"Yeah, well when he gets in tell him he better freaking call me!"  
  
I stopped breathing.  
  
"He'd better _what_?" I managed to bring myself to ask.  
  
"I said he'd better freaking call me!"  
  
I couldn't help it, I swear, I laughed aloud on the phone.  
  
"What' so funny lady?" Salerno demanded.  
  
"He's better _freaking_ call you? What, are we in the second grade?"  
  
"You don't like the way I talk?"  
  
"It's not that, but, come on! I mean, my kid can swear better than that, and he's still in elementary school for heaven's sake! Use the 'f-word' What are you afraid of? Scaring off customers?"  
  
Salerno seemed shocked: "Why on earth would I use some rude and demeaning language? I have to set an example forto my boys you know."  
  
"You have children?" I asked curiously.  
  
"Well, no, but the guys who work for me hang on everything I say. I have to set the standard for behavior around here."  
  
"Really?" I asked, amazed.  
  
"Yeah! I mean, God knows my mother—, may she rest in peace—, wouldn't let me swear in the house and I don't want any of my boys to do the same."  
  
"Oh puh-leaze!" I laughed.  
  
"What!?!" he demanded.  
  
"Do you really think your guys don't say the 'f-word?'" I said, chuckling.  
  
"As a matter of fact they don't." he said.  
  
"Oh really?"  
  
"Really!"  
  
"Do you want to bet?" I asked, toying with him.  
  
"You're on lady!" he said.  
  
"Where are some of your boys right now?" I said.  
  
"There are two of them right outside my club, guarding the joint."  
  
"Alright," I said, sitting up, "go outside, only do it really quietly so they can't hear you come out. Then listen to what they're talking about. I'll bet you my secret recipe for chocolate chip cookies that they use it."  
  
"You're on!" he yelled, and I heard him set the phone down on the desk. In the distance I heard a door open, then after a few minutes I heard yelling and a door slam.  
  
When he came back to the phone, he sounded like he had just finished a lot of yelling.   
  
"Well lady, you were right. I'm going to sit my boys down and have a serious discussion with them on their language and behavior. I owe you a debt of gratitude."

"No problem." I said.  
  
"No, no, I really owe you. You offered me something of yours for this little bet, now I owe you something. What do you want? Anything? Go ahead, it's yours."  
  
"Well, since I offered a recipe..."  
  
Tonight my kids had genuine lasagna, straight from Lucia Salerno's recipe book. Just another day in the office. 


	16. Entry 16

Shadow Boy- Well, fine. _Gus_ and Harley are getting married. For a woman who hates the Spauldings so much she sure does marry a lot of them. Last week she was sitting on my desk showing off her Spaulding heirloom wedding ring. It kind of looks like something from the Borghia family archives. Suits the Spauldings well enough I guess.  
  
Things are actually kind of nice around here now that Brad Green's gone and snuffed it. He was apparently using the company to transport drugs. Some parents might find it terrible that they worked for a company that was part of the Drug smuggling; I actually found it a great deterrent. My kids had the chance to meet Brad Green at the family picnic you see. After the whole scandal was found out I sat them together and told them the truth about drugs: Do it, and Spaulding will get lots and lots of money and men like Brad Green get condos! That scared the heck out of them.  
  
Some of the girls are disappointed about Brad Green's death. I must admit I am too; we never got to have our evil revenge on him, which makes us all sad. We were so close as well. We had convinced Dimitri the Russian Mail Room boy to help us. (Well, When I say 'convince' I mean, 'we got enough blackmail on him.') I was busy sewing his dress, Helen was picking out the right shades of makeup and Corliss was going to do his hair. We were all getting so psyched up for our evil plan. Oh well, at least we had a great 'The Bastard's Dead!' party. Jeremy Anstinson from Sales and his clone did the _cutest_ karaoke bit with some Aerosmith hits.  
  
Sigh, I must run. Alan just asked for another cup of coffee and I need to decide quickly whether to put Ex-Lax or Arsenic in it. Oh, I'm kidding! Of course I'll put in the Ex-Lax...

* * *

Author's Note: Not up to par I guess, but I haven't updated in so long I just got guilty and stayed up to two in the morning getting you this fresh Ms. Rinsler goodness! In other news, I now get GL the same time as you guys, so I can update more!!  
  
So please, please review. This is getting really discoraging... 


	17. Entry 17

I was in a very bad mood when I lost thirty dollars in the office pool in how long Gus and Harley's marriage would last. The winner of the jackpot? Dmitri, who put in a dollar saying "He'll screw it up before the wedding." Well, even though Gus screwed it up _at_ the wedding, we had to agree he was close enough. He won two hundred dollars, fifteen IOUs from Lower Management, a DVD of Office Space and the keys to the Spaulding Mansion's pool house. (We don't actually know how that got in there, but what the hey.)  
  
I do feel sorry for Harley though. Gus lied to her. It's not like anyone saw this comi-oh wait, I did. And so has everyone who worked in this building. Maybe I should send her a gift. Like a plant.  
  
Of course, knowing that Alexandra is in jail makes all the difference in my mood. Just think, one down, five to go... 


	18. Entry 18

Today as I came back from lunch there was a note on my desk reading as such:  
  
_I'm really embarrassed to say this, but I really think you're a great lady. I'm just too shy to come forward and tell you. Would you please go out with me?  
_  
I looked at the letter, then took a pen and wrote on it; _SURE!  
_  
Then I popped it in the trash.  
  
Sorry bub, you want to sexually harass me, do it to my face. Then I know if I should reciprocate.  
  
Alexandra calls all the time leaving message for Alan: "Get me out of here!" "I've changed my mind, get my stylist here ASAP!" or "I don't like the way the guard is looking at me, sue them!" Geej! Whatever happened to the _one_ phone call? Well, okay, it is pretty fun to listen to her squirm... 


	19. Entry 19

Phillip is starting to really scare me. When I went to his office to drop a file on his desk, he dragged me over to his miniature town replica, which now takes up half his office.

"There's the Mansion!" he said, pointing at the model, "and that over there is Towers, and that's the park."

"I like the little trees, Mr. Spaulding, did you make this all yourself?"

"No, I paid some little person to make them. This is Company!" He pointed to a little buiding with a tiny sign saying "BULLDOZED!!!"

"And this...is Spaulding Mansion" he pointed to a big building with a little sign that says "ME."

_Okaaay..._

"And this is Spaulding Enterprises!" he pointed to a small model with a not reading "U R HERE."

Gulp. "Mr. Spaulding, I need to get back to work-"

"Company has been very bad," Phillip said picking up the tiny model of his ex-wife's restaurant. "Very very bad."

_Walk slowly away..._

"Very bad!" He threw the model on the ground and began jumping up and down on it. "Bad Company! Bad!"

At that point I just ran out of there like heck.

Yes boys and girls, Phillip "Rat Bastard" Spaulding has if anything, gotten worse. He is taking over the whole town and destroying as much of it as he can. His little speech is that he wants to do this so his children can inherit a Spaulding empire. Yeah, and fight over it just like Alexandra and Alan.

God I hate them.


	20. Alan Time! Advertizement

Do you hate Alan? Do you enjoy watching him make a complete idiot of himself? Do you wish you could savor these sweet memories over and over again? Well, now you can!

"Alan Time!" a complete three hour tape of Alan's screw ups, messes and his embarrassing moments is now available on video tape for $12.99! Yes, with the help of the Security Department and Spaulding Enterprises' Security Cameras we've gathered the greatest of those Alan memories! Including:

Alan's arguments ordering Chinese!

Alan reenacting the Rocky Horror Picture Show - as every role!

Alan's conversation with the 'Magical Talking Houseplant!'

Alexandra's attempt to drug Alan with a box of chocolates and accidentally making half of Marketing high! (Who can forget that?)

And Many More!!!

Available on Video tape for $12.99 and soon on DVD for $24.99! See Rinsler for details during the hours of 5-9.

Buy today!

* * *

This, my friends, is how I'm paying for my kid's college.


	21. Entry 21

The ...s.o.b. Raymond Hender was horsing around at the coffee pot and knock straight into me while I was holding a hot cup. It spilled all over my brand new skirt. I gave him a piece of my mind, in fact, I'm pretty sure the whole floor knew what Raymond did by the time I was through with him. But all he did was get all huffy and acted like "Jeez, it was just a joke." He laughed and left the office. Jerk. We'll see what's so damn funny when he learns that the payroll goes through me.

Phillip's hired a new personal assistant cough secretary cough. today. Now it's time for the 'How long can you last in the room with Rat Bastard?' And guess who has to do all this work when he's between girls? That's right, me. The last girl lasted about a week before he found some weak excuse to fire her. I-

* * *

I was interrupted when Harley came in. I must say, she has improved since the magical talking houseplant. I didn't even recognize her—until she opened her mouth.

"Hello, I'm Ruth-"

"Very nice, Harley. Like the wig."

"I don't know what you're talking about Ms Rinsler, I'm Ruth Karloff and I'm Phillip Spaulding's new executive assistant."

"Yeah, secretary." I looked her up and down, "Harley, I take it this is an asinine attempt to spy on Spaulding Enterprises in order to help take down the family of evil incarnate and save your family restaurant?"

"Erm...yeah."

"Oh. Well, I'm all for it. Welcome to the job Ruth."

"You'll keep the secret then?"

"To the grave. Or at least until I'm offered a good amount of cash."

"Oh good."

"Harley," I sat down on my desk, "how long do you think you can possibly keep this up? I mean, it's better than the houseplant, but Phillip was married to you for Pete's sake. He's going to see this disguise eventually."

"Well, I've been lucky so far. I think Phillip's got an eye infection so he won't see me yet for a while. Thank God for that infection. "

"Yeah...infection..." _Act innocent. Act innocent. _

"Well, I've got to go make some copies. Thanks Ms. Rineler."

"It's RINSLER!" Is 'Rinsler' a hard name to remember or something? I suppose it might be easier if I changed my last name to Lugosi. Yeah, that would be juuust so inconspicuous.

Karloff? God, I suppose it's better than Copper...


	22. Entry 22

Alan managed to piss me off royally today so during lunch hour I moved in $500 desk chair and put it in the elevator while he was gone and 'I' was at lunch.

Poor Bobby Fremond from the cubicles has lost his mind and is now purposely trying to get fired...to no avail. His attempts are fun to watch though. He's sent an e-mail to the entire company giving exclusive details on what Alan did this summer. He's attached a sign that says 'FAX' to the shredder. Oh, and we're not supposed to call him 'Bobby' anymore, his new name is 'Xena the Office Princess.'

I'm going to miss him.


	23. Entry 23

Someone murdered Phillip Spaulding on Friday.

I was making breakfast this morning and I turned on the TV in the living room just in time to see it on the news. Phillip dead? Well, it could wait until after pancakes. Once I finished cooking, I watched it while eating in the living room and saw what had happened.

Well, all they've released is that he was shot and was killed at Company and the police have no leads. One of my kids was walking by and stopped and starred at the TV. "Isn't that the guy you work for?!"

I shook my head. "Nope, that's his son."

"Oh. Never mind then," and went straight to the pancakes.

I don't know who shot him, but my money's on...aw hell, everyone in town has a good reason to shoot him.

Come to think of it, what was I doing Friday?

Oh yeah, Marty's Martini Bar. All Night. Never mind.

Quick Author's Note:  Don't worry, I'll write more about RB's death soon.


	24. Entry 24

A/N: Due to situations beyond my control cough virus cough the entries for Phillip's funeral are late. Sorry.

Phillip's funeral was today. I'm really sorry I wasn't invited. From what I hear it was quite the event. Olivia Spencer (or Lewis, or whatever last name she has this week) got up drunk as a Maenad and screamed "YOU GOT WHAT YOU DESERVED YOU SONOVABITCH!" Classic! Oh heavens, what I wouldn't have given to be there, but the Spauldings wisely closed it to friends and family. Yeah I know, what 'friends?'

Since everyone was at the funeral no Spauldings were present at work today. "They should have funerals more often." Said Maddie from the Mail Room. No argument here.

Since Phillip's death I've been thinking about some of the things he's been saying these past few months. He always claimed that he was doing everything for his children. Yeah, cause Spaulding children grow up _so_ well, don't they?

Though in all honesty, pre-psycho Phillip wasn't that bad. He was polite most of the time and sometimes he didn't even come into work to bother me at all! And sadly, this will always hurt the kids who had nothing to do with any of this besides being used as pawns in the family games. Ah yes, the kiddie Spauldings. Once Phillip brought his eldest son Zachary to work and I had to babysit him for an hour while Phillip was in a meeting. Damn, how could someone that evil have a kid that sweet? As a result of that day, there is one Spaulding I actually like; too bad he won't have any power for twenty years.

At three today a voice came over the building intercom. "In honor of Phillip Spaulding, we would ask you observe a minute of silence." I stopped typing and all the offices remained still…until Xena The Office Princess (aka Bobby) took out his noisemakers left over from the New Years Party and started to crank it up singing "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead."

Half of the cubicles were in song by the end of the moment of silence. You'd think they'd wait until Happy Hour, wouldn't you?


	25. Entry 25

Phillip's will was read right after the funeral, and only now do I know anything about it. I've just learned that he's going to give Alexandra some stock only if she works in the mailroom. (Poor Dmitri!) He's given his ex-father in law's restaurant (which apparently he owned) to Lizzie. The girl can barely handle living day to day without hurting someone and he gives her a restaurant filled with hot ovens, sharp knives and assorted blunt instruments. Wow, Dad of the Year. And then he gives his ex-wife Olivia her other ex-husband's boyhood home, Crass Creek or something.

And worst of all, he gave the company to Gus. Yep, Shadow Boy. The man can't shave properly and he owns a company. Oh for heavens sake, why the hell would he-

* * *

That bastard. 

James Rockford from Legal came up with a copy of Phillip's Will and a small box. James looked me in the eye and said "You're in the will."

"I'm what?" I asked. Like Hell I'm in the will.

"You're in the Will." He motioned to the thirty page booklet in his right hand. "Half the people in town are in it, but you're on page twelve."

I nearly laughed. "You're kidding me!"

"No, even Bobby Fremond's in it."

"Bobby? What did Bobby get?"

"A Xena costume."

Then I did laugh aloud.

James continued "Jeremy Anstinson and his clone got matching key chains. They were really pissed about it." He set the small box down on the table. "It's all yours."

Once I stopped laughing I wiped the tears out of my eyes and opened the box and took out my inheritance: A plain white coffee mug. "Oh Phillip, you bastard," I said lovingly. Then I noticed something, inside the mug was a piece of paper. I took it out and looked at it.

It was a check to me from Phillip Spaulding for five thousand dollars.

No, it had to be a fake, I told myself. But the longer I looked at and examined it the more real it looked. I was in shock. He wouldn't! No possible way.

Then I noticed there was writing on the other side of the coffee cup. I turned it around and read the inscription.

"Best Secretary Ever!"

I set down the mug, closed the office door, sat there for and cried for fifteen minutes.


	26. Entry 26

Since Phillip left him the outfit, Bobby Fremond's tune about his death has changed. He now has a picture of Phillip on his desk adorned with flowers. Everyday he comes in (in full costume) stands at his desk and lets out a warrior cry in Phillip's honor. Sweet.

I've kept secret of my windfall, since letting it out might leave repercussions. Bad ones. After checking with Legal that the check in indeed legit and has no strings attached, the check is sitting in my bedside table. So far only a few people in Legal, myself and my kids know anything about it. After talking about it with the kids, I'm going to cash it Friday during lunch. It's going in their college fund, it's the right thing. Otherwise it would feel…icky.

Here I am, talking about the right thing to do between attempts of poisoning Alan with ex-lax in creative ways. I'm laying off it for now, since any at all attainments to piss me off are considered results of grief. As much as an evil moron he is, at least he loves his kids. He's a terrible father, but he loves his kids.


	27. Entry 27

Now that the last of the office holiday parties are over and the confetti and booze bottle are finally cleaned up, I can get back to writing the events of the office. Kind of boring, actually, even with Phillip's murder.

Gus Aituro is spending most of his time as CEO doing anything else but Spaulding. He's convinced himself that Harley is not only innocent of Harley's murder but any other person who was not in his sight the exact second Phillip was meeting the bullet must have something to do with it. When he is in the office, he's walking around all the offices asking people "So…where were you the night Phillip was killed?"

This has led to a fun game around the office, of which Gus is completely naïve. When he questions a person, we say, "You know, I was at such-in-such, but come to think of it, Jimmy Baren in Marketing came to the office the next morning looking pretty scruffy and angry. Maybe you should ask him." So Gus, being the idiot he was born to be, heads over to Marketing to question Jimmy. So then Jimmy has to spend about a half-hour convincing Gus that he doesn't know anything. At the end of it, Jim will say, "Well, now you know I didn't do it, but come to think of it, Judy Kaufman was acting funny the next morning…" And so on and so on. This has been happening for weeks now. The fun part is trying to guess who sent Gus to you. Gus came to my desk looking for answers twice. Tee hee, I have such fun playing with his head.

I think Bobby Fremont's finally going to get his wish granted and is about to get fired. When someone directed Gus in his direction as part of the game, Bobby got cranky and threatened Gus with his sword. It's a plastic sword with the words "Xena: always getting her man," on it, but it can look pretty intimidating in a certain light. Okay, _no_ light.

Meanwhile, Gus and Alan are having a fight. Gus came to my desk while Alan was standing right next to me and Alan made a grimace. "Ms. Rinsler, could you please tell Gus that since he missed his meeting with the board that perhaps he should take the time to remember that I'm not going to see him."

"Gus," I said, "He says to buzz off 'cause he's miffied about the meeting you missed."

"Well, Ms. Rinsler, could you please tell him that I'm not going to stop until I find Phillip's real killer, whoever it may be."

"Mr. Spaulding," I said to Alan, "Gus says that Phillip came to him in a dream and told him where he stashed all his buried treasure."

"Well, Ms. Rinsler," said Alan, "Could you please tell Gus that dream or no dream, a meeting is a meeting and he has obligations. And where exactly did Phillip leave the money?"

"Gus," I turned to Gus, "Alan says that if you run around the building five times, he'll agree that Harley's innocent and help you."

"Really?" asked Gus.

"Oh yeah," I said.

Gus took off running.

"What did he say?" asked Alan.

"He said he's going off to find the treasure without you. You know, I bet if you chased after him you'd find it."

Alan took off running after Gus.

Yeah, this is about the third time I've had to relay messages between them when they're standing about three feet away from each other. This of course means that I'm going to have to make laxative-brownies again.


End file.
